2011-02-02 - Invasion Into OZ
Tuesday, February 1 01:22:14, Military Time Side 04 Outside of Side Four, a good few kilometers away, a twosome of freighters are docked with eachother through the use of a metalic tube. Their outer lights are dark, and they are not sending out an IFF signal. For all intents and purposes... the freighters do not exist. And nobody is looking for them. Aboard one of them, Quatre Raberba Winner, dressed in the uniform of the Organization of the Zodiac, is pulling at the collar of the thing to give himself a bit of extra breathing room. Standing in front of him is a young woman, who is closing the final button of the uniform. "Are you sure about this, brother?" She asks him. The young man simple smiles at her, though a bit weakly. He takes the older sister's hand and places his on hers, emphasizing the words that follow. "I am certain. Don't worry about me." And he then turns about, as the door opens that gives access to the large tunnel amidst of the danger of space... giving access to the freighter on the other side. Inside of the other freighter, one of the few people Quatre truly thought of as a 'friends' was waiting. Trowa Barton. For a moment, the blonde Arab turns his head about, taking a look at the girl disappears behind the automatically closing door. She'd been waving at him with a smile. But somehow he'd known that she was sad. The young man knew, there was no more turning back. The wheels of fate are turning, and this rebel sure as heck was going to fight. For Trowa Barton, the choice to fight has never been much of a choice at all. It is simply something he has done for all of his life and the only change has been in the method in which he fought. Today his weapon of choice is guile and cunning. A high stakes game of espionage in which a single misstep could spell certain doom for the mission... yet he is as calm as always. When the door of the freighter slides open, five men, all wearing crisp uniforms just like the one Quatre is wearing, give a smart salute to what they think is a comrade in arms. Trowa, in the back of the reception commit does likewise, his eyes locking with Quatre. "Welcome aboard," the foremost OZ soldier says as he lowers his arm, "I trust your trip was a pleasant one?" Quatre returns the salute immediately upon arrival, clicking his shoes together, and giving the best soldier-like look he can manage. He does pretty well, given his general appearance and stature. "The trip was indeed a pleasant one." He replies, then drops his hand to his side and lets his gaze quickly skip between the uniformed soldiers. He catches Trowa, and manages not to smile. In fact, there was a lot he was hiding - such as the fact that he was quite unnerved to be amidst this many OZ soldiers. He too realized how dangerous this all was. "Vier Winnaar." He announces his name, an identity he had managed to forge with the help of Heero's ingenious hacking abilities when it came to networks and computers and what not. For all intents and purposes, the young man named Vier Winnaar was an experienced Leo pilot from a squad that had long since disbanded, and had been forced to live in hiding aboard a nearby colony. "Good to be home." The young man adds, smiling. The OZ soldiers nod, at him, and turn about. "This way." They soon leave the airlock, and the connecting walking-tube behind them disconnects with a loud hiss and a 'thump'. And the OZ freighter takes off immediately. The group wander through a semi-long hallway, until they reach a prong. "It will be a while until we arrive. You are welcome to make use of the rooms to the left. We don't have a lot of room, so you will have to figure out your living condition with one of the other men." "I'll volunteer sir," Trowa promptly intones as he steps up to Quatre and turns, giving the commanding officer a salute, "It will give me a chance to get to know those I will be working with better." A perfectly innocent and logical course of action for a soldier, and an excuse to have some alone time with his partner in crime. With a brief nod from the commander, Trowa turns to 'Vier' and motions, "This way please. It's going to be a lengthy trip." Quatre nods at Trowa, as he volunteers, giving him an understanding nod when he believes the other troops are not looking. "It will be about sixteen hours before arrival. So try to get some sleep." The commander adds, then wanders off with the rest of the troops in tow, leaving behind Trowa and Quatre. "So, I guess we will have to get to know eachother then." Quatre claims, out of earshot of the others, and does indeed take the turn towards the left, slowing down so that Trowa can lead him to his room. It isn't that security is lax on board, but the troops that picked up Quatre are simply there to move the young man to the facility. Somehow, someone had managed to set them up to be immediately transfer to a facility dedicated to one of the latest projects. Trowa had probably heard the men whisper, wondering who this new kid was, and how he managed to pull strings to enter the test pilot track so easily. There were rumors that he was perhaps the nephew of one of the commanders, or something along those lines. After all, one never knew amidst a military unit that was funded by unsavory characters. If Trowa heard the other men grumbling and whispering, he disregarded them. As long as their idle speculation doesn't lead them to the actual truth, they can rumor monger all they like. It doesn't take long for them to reach the quarters assigned to Trowa and a simple swipe of a passcard is enough to get them inside, "Here we are..." Once inside, Trowa closes and locks the door, "Sorry the accomidations aren't as good as what you're used to." Quatre raises a hand to his mouth and laughs a bit. "Oh Trowa, you really don't know how I normally live, do you?" Life under the desert sun, inside tents, wasn't exactly fantastic. As much as he seemed like a fancy young man, his living conditions since joining the Maganac -- and Operation Meteor -- had quite deteriated. The young man shakes his head a bit, and settles immediately on the lowest bunk. He then opens his uniform a bit and retrieves a yellow folder with a red wire around it, locked by a thick blue seal stamped with the OZ insignia on it. "Did you get lucky enough to get one of these?" He offers to Trowa, showing the thing. The seal had been broken, so it was obvious that he'd looked inside. He was not letting himself say anything that might suggest they knew eachother -- so somehow had to hide what he meant. That he was basically complimenting Trowa on managing to set up this whole thing, entering them into OZ, together. And with some information exchange between the two, and help from an anonymous benifactor, had then received that fateful letter, inviting them to report to one of the secret OZ bases for 'test pilot' purposes. It only takes a moment, but Trowa soon produces the exact same type of letter and nods, "An invitation to partake in testing of a Next Gen Mobile Suit. It seems that we have friends in high places." Not to mention friends in the shadows, but that's best left unsaid. "Did you learn anything new on your trip here?" Trowa takes a seat on the bunk, leaving his uniform unbuttoned at the collar. "I haven't heard anything, other than what little the document claims." Quatre lies. After all, he'd given Trowa more information before then. But him saying that he hadn't heard anything was code for... well... that he had no additional information. "Anyway." Quatre crawls his hand over the bed, rubbing it a bit, figuring out how comfortable it may be. Not at all. It was almost as hard as a wooden board - or the metal plate the thin matress sat upon. "Anyhow. We should get some shuteyes. Tomorrow... will be busy." "I see. I haven't had much luck either. Mostly just rumors, most of which corralates to what we already know." Trowa replies, "We'll find out soon enough in any case." When Quatre suggests sleep, Trowa nods quietly and stands up, unbuttoning his uniform and hanging the coat up on a small clothes hanger in the corner. wouldn't do to show up at the facility looking anything less than their best. Quatre nods at Trowa and follows suit. "Rumors are rumors." The young blonde claims, before he settles on the bed, under the covers, and mutters something along the lines of... "I hope things will go well." ---- Tuesday, February 1 18:03:44, Military Time OZ Base #404 Trowa, Quatre, and the rest of the suits who had transported them to their location, are all standing at attention just outside of the freighter - a ramp leading down from the spaceship. A brutish looking man smacks what looks like a riding crop on his leather gloved hand, as he inspects the two recruits who are standing to the front. "So..." He turns towards Trowa, and sticks the butt of the whip in his face. "You two are the... boys... who are going to be flying our new Mobile Suits huh?" The crop lashes away from Trowa's face - and the man ends up pointing straight at Quatre. The young man manages not to gulp, but his throat is suddenly feeling much more dry than it ever had within the desert. "Sir, yes sir." He quickly replies, holding the salute he'd been holding ever since coming out the commander having arrived on the scene. The crop gets removed from the area in front of his face, and the commander steps back, giving the two another once-over. He looks suspicious. If the commander was hoping for a reaction from trowa, all he gets is an emotionless look as the young man snaps a sharp salute and briskly replies, "Sir, yes sir." He's good at controlling his emotions, "Second Lieutenant Trowa Barton, reporting for duty, sir." With that, he snaps back to attention, his hands held behind his back and his posture straight as a board, keenly aware of the scrutinizing gaze of the CO. "Very well then." The Commander suddenly turns his back towards Trowa and Quatre, slapping the crop fiercely on his hand. "You are both elite soldiers, so I am expecting a lot from you two. Don't let me down!" And then proceeds to walk away, reveiling a twosome of scientists. One of which Trowa might recognize as Doctor S! The other being Doctor J. The three other professors were not present at the time. Quatre gives the two a confused look for a moment, somehow finding them feeling... familiar somehow. He turns his head towards Trowa for a moment, trying to see if he knew any of them, before turning back his head as the Commander turned around again. "Okay. Well, you two better get ready, because you two are going to be following a strict training regiment. Follow me." The commander wanders off towards one of the far away hallways, where a briefing room was awaiting them. A room with a white board, and a projector. And an armed guard standing outside. Even with all of Trowa's stoic prowess, there is still a brief flash of surprise when he sees Doktor S. He had been wondering why the orders he had been issued since the beginning of Operation meteor had suddenly stopped. Trowa shoots Quatre a brief glance, then quickly settles back into his stoic routine before he blows their cover. Inwardly though, his mind is already thinking. .oO( If Doktor S is here, that means he's a captive of OZ and most likely being forced to work on this project. This complicates matters greatly... I might be forced to kill him to prevent OZ from discovering my secret. ) He stays silent and processes all this new information as they follow the commander to the briefing room. Quatre walks close to Trowa as they wander through the hangar, and at one point lets his hand touch Trowa's, handing him something. It looks like... a tiny white-colored plug, and gives him a knowing look. He then raises that same hand to his mouth and kind of... rubs it. Indicating that Trowa is to put it into his mouth. It's a highly technological radio that can sit in the mouth - and can receive signals from the brain somehow to manage communication. Quatre patiently waits for the brown haired young man at his side to do what is needed, whilst entering the room. There, the commander smacks the crop on the tables at the front. "Sit!" He demands, then walks to the back of the room in order to man the projector that is placed there. Trowa palms the device and watches the commander, waiting for his back to be turned before discreetly inserting the communicator into his mouth. Like a well trained dog, Trowa sits when commanded, his back still straight. This is a man you do not want to show weakness around it seems. "Quatre, can you hear me?" "Yes, Trowa." Quatre replies. "Loud and clear." He too sits down on the seat next to Trowa, and puts both of his arms on the table in front of him. They both had a big and thick manual laying in front of them, that was sealed at the moment. "Don't open the manual, before you see this." The commander barks at the two, after which the wall in front of them is suddenly overcome with blueprint images. "As you are well away, we have found out about an Operation called Operation Meteor." It shows a general outline of the five gundams suddenly, one after another. "Pilotted by unknown soldiers from the colonies. We identified the material used to build those units, which at first were believed to be invulnerable, to be Gundaminium." The slide changes to an image of chemical composition details on the alloy in question. "After months of work, we have finally found and captured each and every scientist involved in the creation of those 'Gundams', and they have now created..." A blueprint of the Vayeate and the Mercurius show up. "The OZ-13MSX1 Vayeate, and the OZ-13MSX2 Mercurius units." What follows are detailed information on their capabilities. "You two will be taught to work together in perfect unison, in order to master the use of these mobile suits. You will train in the use of these machines, and be taught about their abilities by the scientists that created them." All five of the scientists? This is definitely not good news. It's quickly becoming clear to Trowa that this mission is /far/ more dangerous than even he expected, since not only do they have to do something about the two mobile suits created by OZ, they must also either liberate, or barring that, /kill/ the designers of said suits. For now though, he'll just have to focus on the briefing. Once they're alone, they can strategize what to do about this new revelation. "Does that mean that... Instructor H is also here?" Quatre looks somewhat worried, tilting his head a bit so that Trowa could see the look on his face. After all, the commander was still behind them, and likely could not read the surprise. "This isn't good, Trowa." "Alright!" The lights turn back on, and the commander walks forwards. "Now, those big manuals have fourhundred pages of information, you will need to have studied and memorized it all... by tomorrow." He turns around as he reaches the front and grins at the both of them. It looks like this man is planning on making their lives /hell/. "You got that?" The man confirms. "Yes sir." Quatre stands up in attention, saluting the man. "Now, get to it. Your living quarters are in section A - good luck finding it." And with that, the commander walks out, leaving Quatre and Trowa there to pick up the thick sealed manual. "Most likely," Trowa replies with, his voice tense and guarded, "I saw Doktor S on the way in. We have to find out exactly what OZ might have discovered about the Operation... and us." Trowa stands and salutes, keeping his doubts in check until the man has left the room, "Have the others mentioned anything about losing contact with the scientists?" "So, how do you think you are going to handle studying this thing?" Quatre asks Trowa, followed by using the little device in his mouth. "They have been as quiet about that subject as normal. I don't know if they even stay in contact. All I know is... this is bad." The young blonde hugs the book to his chest for a moment, showing that he really doesn't exactly belong here. However, he realizes this quickly, and puts the thing under his arm. The light of the room suddenly turns off. "Hey lovebird! Get your asses out of here, before I kick them out!" The commander apparently had come back to make sure they were leaving. He then quickly gives some orders to the guards around the room, and leaves. One could quickly learn to hate that man. Thankfully, Trowa isn't a hater, so he just brushes off the jab as he picks up the manuel and motions for Quatre to follow. "We'll think of something." Question is, will the answer they eventually come to settle well with Quatre? Category:Logs